getting home to you
by irnan
Summary: Anakin always said it was Padme's fault, but he was the one who spotted that broom closet. AU fluff.


_this is a disclaimer._

_**AN:** utter fluff and possible crack.  
_

**getting home to you**

"I just don't understand how you keep getting into these messes," Anakin said despairingly.

"You do it all the time," Padmé accused.

"My darling love, I'm _paid_ to do it. You're a Senator. You're paid to talk to people, and look stunning in that green gown you wore to that HoloNet debate last week."

She smirked. "You saw that? I hoped you would. But anyway, you're a Jedi. You don't get paid."

Anakin grinned, teeth flashing in the dimness of their hideaway. "That's why you never get lavished with expensive gifts –"

"I'd rather be lavished with you," Padmé interrupted, and then went red. "That didn't sound quite as dirty in my head."

Anakin had to hide his face in her shoulder to muffle his laughter, and – well, what did he expect of her, really? He was right _there_, pressed up against her all strength and heat and gorgeousness despite the scruff of beard and the dirt and the smell and his hands were big and warm on her back and there was that pale patch of skin exposed under his collar, and she just had to kiss it.

He groaned quite gratifyingly, so she did it again.

"Stop that."

"Why?"

"It's rude to start things you can't finish."

"Who said I can't finish?"

"Here? In what is essentially a glorified broom closet in a Separatist base I'm supposed to be rescuing you from?"

She laughed. "Don't think about the rescuing part. Just think about the green gown."

"It looked very much more, ah, _accessible_ than this jumpsuit, I have to say..."

"I wore it especially for you. I sat through that whole debate thinking about how you were watching this, and how much I missed you, and what you'd look like, all scuffed-up and strong and handsome..."

"Now you're just being ridiculous. And sneaky. And mean."

Padmé was not about to disagree with that assessment. Just a little bit more... "I came home that night and dreamed of you... of making love to you. Of the way your hands slide up my thighs and that mischievous look you get whenever I'm stuck trying to figure out how to get your robes off. Of the way you look in the mornings, stretched out in my sheets, miles and miles of golden skin. Of how glorious it feels to fall asleep with you wrapped around me – the weight of you on me, _in_ me –"

Anakin snapped. He'd been standing there with his jaw working from side to side, trying to keep himself under control, but at her last words his hands came up to catch her face in his and he finally, finally kissed her. Padmé clutched at slippery leather and coarse wool and pressed herself closer to him, feeling triumphant as his tongue licked into her mouth and his stubble scraped her face.

She could spent whole days being kissed by him. His arm went round her shoulders, drawing her closer still, if such a thing were possible, her head tilting back like an actress in an old holomovie, caught and held tightly in her husband's loving grip, and they were still kissing, breathing each other's breath, wet and a little sloppy but completely incapable of stopping for anything short of –

"A_hem_."

Anakin froze. Padmé's eyes widened. They began to draw apart, but then Padmé, in a sudden rush of resolve, dropped her hands to his waist and held on.

Obi-Wan, Ahsoka and what looked like half the legion had found them. Ahsoka's mouth had dropped open, Rex was staring, and Obi-Wan –

"I cannot even _begin_ to tell you how much trouble you're in."

Padmé thought he looked more exasperated than disappointed. Or upset. Or angry.

"Yes, I'm sure the Council will be devastated," Anakin said.

Obi-Wan sighed. "I just," he said helplessly. "_You're_ just. You drive me round the bloody twist, if I may be excused the expression."

"Oh, look here," Anakin said, and there was something like laughter in his voice now. "I'm a Jedi Knight, and I'm twenty-four and you can't tell me what to do anymore."

"You're twenty-three," Obi-Wan snapped back.

"You have no idea when my birthday is!"

"Neither do you!"

"Erm," Padmé said. "Is there any way we could finish this one back on the cruiser? Only we wouldn't have bothered with the broom closet if it hadn't been for those droidekas. And it's a really rather unpleasant one, so if they're gone..."

"Maybe it's just time for things to change," Anakin said.

"In the middle of a _war_?"

"That's an excuse people use who aren't brave enough to do what needs to be done, and you know it."

"Look, if you're going to start campaigning to change the Jedi Code –"

"No one is going to start doing anything if we don't leave round about now!" Padmé exclaimed, and then, when neither of them seemed inclined to budge an inch, she grabbed a handful of Anakin's tunic and simply dragged him out with her. "Captain Rex, would you mind pointing me to the nearest exit, please?"

"Certainly, Senator Amidala. This way."

From behind her, she heard Obi-Wan make a noise that might almost be described as a yelp. "You actually got married!"

"Well, yes," Anakin said. "What kind of a – a _cad_ would I be if we didn't?"

Padmé bit the inside of her cheek to hide her smirk. She wasn't quite sure what was going on with those two – or what had happened in that closet (apart from the obvious, and not going there right now thank you very much because.... mmmmh), but she'd been filled with the most ridiculous giddy optimism since she'd set eyes on Anakin again not two hours ago, and it showed no signs of abating any time soon.

Ahsoka fell into step beside her. "It'll be all over the HoloNet within two days, Sky Girl," she announced.

Padmé wasn't sure what made her happier: Ahsoka's dire predictions or her easy use of a nickname that so clearly showed just what she thought of the whole business.

"Good," she said, and found herself, unexpectedly, grinning like an idiot.


End file.
